He's Gone, Get Over It
by VanillaFlavoredToothpaste
Summary: Tommy talks to his mother, Ponyboy about leaving his bedroom for the first time in thirteen years. (This is a Next Gen fic, so it features some of my fanchildren. Also, this is my first fanfiction on this site, so please be nice! Warning: Mentions of incest. Don't like? Don't read.)


(AN: This is my first fanfiction on this site, so please be nice! I'm not the best writer in the world, so sorry if I made any grammar or spelling mistakes.)

My family wasn't the best in the world, we were poor and one of us was a troublemaker who often got in trouble with the law. I'm talking about my older sister, Claire. She's been to jail at least twice, and she got out early for good behavior both of those times. She'd jump kids, steal, fight people, vandalize, anything to break the law. Our other siblings aren't like that, Annabelle just reads and watches sunsets, and Soda just likes to have fun and be around girls. Speaking of Soda, he's the best brother you could ever have, he's got this grin and good looks, they say he looks and acts exactly like our father.

I never knew Dad, for he had died before I was even born. He went to Vietnam with uncle Steve and died there, at least that's what I heard. I was told that Dad was a good guy, he worked down at the DX with uncle Steve. Uncle Darry said that Mom was really upset after he heard that Dad died.

Mom...Mom wasn't as fun or smiley as Dad was. Mom was a depressed guy, he stayed in his room and rarely left it. We always had to bring food to him, since he'd refuse to leave his room. I have this thought that he only stays in it because that's where him and Dad slept together every night. Mom always kept the blinds closed, and so the room was always dark whenever you went into it. Sometimes, when Mom was really upset, one of us would go into his room and sleep with him. Mom had a desk in his room, and lemme tell ya, it was littered with papers. The papers were letters that Dad had sent him, and even if Dad was dead, Mom still continued to write letters to him. Mom was in denial that Dad was gone, he believed that he was still alive and fighting in the war, even if it was over, he was even in denial that it was over. We started to get those thoughts that Mom was starting to hallucinate since he kept saying that he saw Dad in their bedroom an awful lot. We took him to the doctor, and the doctor said that nothing was wrong with him, he just needed lots of sleep. It was true, Mom went an entire two days without sleeping once. I think he developed insomnia or something.

I knocked on my mother's bedroom door, "Mom?" I said. There was no response. That seemed sensible, Mom never spoke to anyone, except there were times that he'd talk to himself. I grabbed the doorknob and turned it, opening the door. I walked into the dark room and flipped the light switch. I saw Mom lying in bed, as always. I approached the bed, and got onto it. "Hi." I said, resting my hand on his arm. He didn't say anything, he just laid there. I frowned, and laid down next to him.

"Mom, why can't you just talk to me? It's like I've never heard your voice before." That was a joke, I had heard his voice before, but his voice sounded broken and hoarse. I moved over to him and wrapped my arm around him. "I love you, Mommy. I just want you to talk to me." I whimpered, burying my face in the back of his neck. I was spooked once he suddenly turned over. I looked into my mother's greenish-gray eyes, they were dark, and there was no life seen in them.

"What?" He mumbled.

"I just wanted to talk to you, so you wouldn't be lonely." I said.

"What do you wanna talk about?"

I gulped, "Dad..."

He went silent for a few moments, then spoke. "What about him?"

"Mom, you've been writing so many letters to him after he died. There's no point in doing it anymore, he's gone, he'll never be able to read them. Also, the war is over, so stop saying that it isn't, and that Dad's still over there fighting it. Ma, you need to get over his death, you can't keep doing this for the rest of your life. You can't stay in your bedroom all day mourning him. He died thirteen years ago, and it's surprising that you've been doing this for that long. It just hurts when I see you in this dark room, never leaving it. Why do you even stay in here anyways?"

Mom exhaled, "I only stay in here because I'm still waiting for him to come home...come through that front door and be able to be a father to his children. He ain't dead, hon...he's still over in Vietnam...fighting...Steve only came back 'cause he got off early...he seemed sad when he got back...maybe it's 'cause Daddy didn't get off early like he did."

"Mom, did you even listen to what I said?"

"Of course I did...you've never even met Daddy, so how would you know?"

"They told me he was dead, Mama!"

"They're just wisecracking, nothin' to worry about."

I rolled my eyes at him, has he lost his mind? He obviously didn't listen to a single thing I said. I grabbed onto his sweatshirt, "Mama, would you come out of your room with me?"

"No thanks, hon. I'm going to stay in here."

I raised an eyebrow, I let go of him and sat up. "I'll have to drag you out of this bed, then." I got off the bed and grabbed onto his arms. I started to pull him off of the bed. He was thin and light, so it wasn't that hard to drag him across. "C'mon, Mom." I said.

"Tommy, no." He whispered.

I succeeded in getting him off that damn bed. I helped him to his feet and led him out of the room. I took him down the hallway. "Hey, Mama! Ya finally came outta ya room?" Soda said. Mom didn't say anything, he only stared at my big brother. I led Mom the rest of the way down the hallway and to the front door. "What're you doing?" Mom asked me.

I opened the door, "C'mon, Ma." I said.

I took him outside. There was a light breeze, the afternoon air was crisp, and there was a beautiful sunset just over the horizon. "Why'd you take me outside?" He asked. "To do something you haven't done in a long time." I answered. I took him towards the porch step and sat him down on it. I sat down right next to him. He looked towards the sunset, "You brought me out here just to watch a sunset?" he yawned. I nodded at him, "I thought it would make ya feel better."

We sat there for a few minutes, just gazing at the sunset. He spoke, "Sure is pretty. Last time I did this was fifteen years ago...I watched it with your father after our lil' wedding..."

"Wedding?"

"Yeah...we had a fake wedding, since obviously it wouldn't be socially accepted to marry your own brother. The only people who were close to us were invited. We had a party...Two-Bit made this giant chocolate cake, Steve and your father had a drag race, Dally hid Jacob in the cabinet and Johnny got real mad at him...and Darry got mad at us for trashing the entire house. That was the best day of my life...then after all that wild stuff, your dad and I sat in this exact spot, and watched a sunset..."

"If only I was alive then, I would've wanted to be invited to your fake wedding."

"It really was fun."

The sun had soon set a little more. I grabbed onto Mom's sleeve. "Mama." I said. He looked away from the sunset, and at me. I immediately hugged him tight, "Mama...please don't stay in your room no more...spend time with us...we miss you so much..." I breathed. I felt him hug me back, I was kinda surprised when he did, he never did that before. I felt him run his hand through my hair. I felt his chest raise and lower. "A-Alright, honey...I will..." He whispered. I felt tears rolling down my face. "Thanks...Mom..." I said, feeling a smile form on my face. We broke the hug and went back to watching the sunset, he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him, and he kissed my forehead.

Months went by, and he wasn't in his room as much as he used to be. Of course, he was still in denial that Dad was dead and that the war was over, but that didn't really matter to us no more, at least he wasn't in that room much. There was still no life behind his eyes, and he started to talk more. You wouldn't believe how proud I was of him.

Mom died on July 29, 1985 of natural causes, just seven days after his thirty-fourth birthday.

He may be gone, but at least he's with Dad again.

(AN: This was like really short, sorry if it's kinda...ya know, not that good. I hope you enjoyed it!)


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